


You Twist So Fine

by ChutJeDors



Category: The Beatles
Genre: AKA, M/M, PWP, Pleasing Wanton Paul, S E X, Sex, did i make that clear enough, it is sex, there's no plot or nothing that would resemble one, this is just sex, this is what happens when i should be working
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 13:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10720008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChutJeDors/pseuds/ChutJeDors
Summary: God, Paul can't getenoughof that bloodysong.





	You Twist So Fine

**Author's Note:**

> ..........this is what i do when i should be doing anything else, really. sorry for sinning.
> 
> this started as me despairing after john's singing in twist and shout. the results are here. i should be stopped
> 
> good old school fucking. there is no plot. this is just porn. PWP (pleasing wanton paul). not original at all. un-betaed, un-checked, un-pure. just straight up sinning. cheers.

_Well, shake it up baby, now_

Paul jolted out of his sleep with the radio starting to blast a way too familiar song. He groaned and brought a hand to his face, the small bus jumping from side to side as it made its way through the bumpy road that had seen maintenance service some time in the 18th century.

"Will someone shut the bloody thing down!" he heard George groan and somebody, Mal? Maybe? ...Mal chuckled and switched the radio off.

Silence took over the car and Paul snuggled deeper into his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, and sighed deeply.  
He could not complain too much; John's voice was now dancing around his head and made falling asleep much more pleasant.

 _'Gotta listen to that song again, soon,'_ was his last conscious thought. _'Can't get enough of the way he sings it.'_

And that thought stayed with him.

***~**~***

_Twist and **shout**_

_C'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon c'mon **baby** now_

_'Hooooly shit,'_ Paul closed his eyes and let his head fall against the sofa table, a small radio in his hand playing right next to his ear. _'This is better than I remembered.'_

He had somehow managed to find the song from the radio. It was played quite often, but this time Paul had been actively trying to find it. Why he was sitting on the big carpet instead of the sofa in their hotel suite, he didn't know. But he sure as hell knew that this song was going to make him rather desperate _again._

Hearing it always took him back to the moment when they had recorded it. Paul couldn't think of anything as memorable as that; a sore throat from singing the whole day, sore fingers from _playing_ the whole day, sweat in his neck and chest, hearing John's small cough before the guitarist stepped up to the mic, John's bare, glistening chest as he blasted out the best, dirtiest rock'n roll track they had ever managed to play.

Paul got shivers on his spine from even thinking about it.

Afterwards it had felt like he had been _hard_ for days, and even hearing John _speak_ (which he didn't do until much later, though) would make Paul want to _twist_ and bloody _shout_ -

_You know you twist, you little **giiirl**_

_You know you twist so **fine**_

"Aaaahhh," Paul let out an incoherent moan from deep in his throat, feeling his insides jolt at the way John sang that small, so _important_ word.

 _'He always manages to get me going,'_ the bassist sighed and let his head slowly thud against the table. John was a real, true fucker.

By the time the song had got into the guitar part, Paul was achingly hard. He bit his lip as he listened on, the tension increasing in his body as John started the long “aaah” – part. He was shuddering by the time his own voice took the top, and then- _then_ -

“Fuuuuuck,” Paul banged his head against the table, shaking all over when their voices went wild. Then John returned into the verse, his voice breaking and screaming, sounding rougher and _hotter_ than _ever._

 _Fuck._ He needed John _right now._ No stopping, no hesitating, just straight up sex. He _needed_ it.

The last, breathy “mine” did him in, and he was a fucking _goner_.

The song came to an end and Paul was left panting against the table, his cheeks hot and neck sweaty, his trousers tight and the hand that was not holding onto the radio squeezed into a fist. He jerked when the knot in his stomach tightened even still and he let out a hiss trough his teeth. John was going to pay for this. By sticking himself into Paul _right now._

John better make him bloody _twist._

***~**~***

John, George and Ringo didn't make it very far into the hotel suite before Paul attacked. He didn't do anything, though. Only looked at John from the sofa, his eyes black and piercing.

The cheerful smile on John's face seemed to freeze for a moment before the man lifted his eyebrows in a questioning gesture. George and Ringo threw one glance between them and started quickly advancing towards their shared bedroom.

“Have fun!” George called before the door into their room slammed shut, a guitar soon starting up a rather strong melody. George and Ringo had their avoidance tactics nailed down.

Paul licked at his lips.

John's gaze follow his tongue and the guitarist seemed to shudder slightly.

“Alright, Paul?” he asked, his voice rough, just like Paul _wanted_ it.

“I was listening,” he started, never letting go of the gaze between them, “to the radio.”

“Yeah?” John tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes travelled lower and met the quite visible bulge in Paul's crotch area. “Apparently a nice program?”

“'T was a song,” Paul breathed. The memory of John's voice piercing into his ears made him shudder, and he was slowly losing all rational thoughts.

“A song?” John looked confused. “It's been ages since Elvis got ye hard, mate.”

“Nah,” Paul said, standing up. He walked over to John, grabbed him rather unceremoniously by the man's loose tie and dragged him into the bedroom. “Wasn't Elvis.”

“Er,” John looked now even more confused, although his eyes were darkening. Paul felt satisfaction and desire surge through him, hand in hand, and he stopped in the middle of the room.

“Remember when we did Twist And Shout?” he asked slyly, fingerings at John's tie. John's eyes glanced down at his hand, then up to his face.

“Yeah? Couldn't forget,” he smiled wryly and Paul chuckled, his voice oozing with need. John frowned, leaning a bit closer.

“Are you sayin',” he said, his voice getting huskier and lower, “that it was _that_ bloody song that made-” he gestured towards Paul, “ _this?_ ”

Paul shuddered at John's voice, stepping closer. They were now standing almost chest to chest and Paul let his mouth get closer to John's.

“What can I say?” he breathed, his whole upper body moving with his deep inhales. “It’s _always_ made me wanna _shout_.”

John shuddered, his eyes closing momentarily. Paul felt saliva building up in his mouth as he stared at the other’s lips.

“Well,” a murmur came out from John, deep and needy, rock’n roll breaking into it. Paul’s skin was broken by goosebumps as John’s hands came up to his arms, touching his biceps. “Shake it up, babe, _now_.”

Paul let out a straight up moan and couldn’t hold it in anymore. He leant in, pulling John by his tie, and hungrily claimed possession over the man’s mouth, his lips moving and biting and sucking. There was no need to be gentle; not when he was horny as _hell_.

John groaned onto his mouth and the sound went straight into Paul’s stomach. He pulled, trying to get the man over to the bed. He _needed_ John, not in a moment, not tomorrow, but _now._ Fortunately John seemed to think the same, as he quickly took the upper hand of the kiss and pushed his tongue deep in Paul’s mouth.

“Say, would you twist for me?” John breathed into his mouth and Paul moaned, not able to say anything before John resumed eating his face, their jaws opening wide as they tried to taste _everything_ of the other.

John’s hands came up to Paul’s white shirt, working on the buttons while Paul tugged at the tie, torn between wanting it off and leaving it there. Some primal reaction in him was saying that it would feel great to hold onto it while fucking. He contemplated for a moment whether to give in to that particular need (or fantasy), but in the end decided to leave it for another day. He opened the knot and the fabric slid away from John’s neck, at the same time as John exposed Paul’s skin to the slightly cool air.

The man pulled off Paul’s shirt in a move that felt all too slow, his mouth immediately travelling away from Paul’s mouth, moving lower. He licked and sucked on Paul’s neck and the bassist let out a breathless chuckle.

“Brian’s gonna kill you if he sees that-”

“So?” John lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I would die as a happy, satisfied man.”

Paul laughed and pulled John’s head back down against his throat, moans soon starting to spill from his lips. He had already been achingly hard, and now it only became more unbearable.

“John- _John,_ ” he whined and the man seemed to take the cue, opening Paul’s trousers and slipping his hand inside.

His long fingers wrapped around the shape of Paul’s dick and Paul let out a string of curses, pulling John into a deep, searing kiss as his legs buckled and almost gave over. John let out a small gasp into his mouth and pushed him backwards, a smile on his lips.

Paul let himself fall on the bed and was feeling more than inviting when John pulled his shirt off, his bare chest pale but holding a light flush. He looked around and quickly jumped over to Paul’s bedside table where the vaseline was residing.

“I’d rather have it close by,” he grinned toothily and Paul chuckled, starting to stroke himself through his underwear. John stopped coming closer and watched.

And watched.

“Hell,” he then groaned, walking over to Paul with an almost painful expression, “I need to have you _now_.”

“I was just wonderin’ what you were waitin’ for,” Paul said tightly. His head fell against the bed and he bit his lower lip, the movements of his hand becoming faster. “Shit, John, _shit_ -”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m _coming,_ ” John said hurriedly and pulled off his trousers and underwear in one go. Paul almost whined at the sight, his legs shivering and back momentarily arching off the bed as he thrust into his hand.

He stared at John’s strained erection and decided that he needed nothing more than that dick inside him.

“Alright,” John said, almost business-like as he grabbed Paul’s trousers and pulled them down. They both moved further on the bed, and then they were kissing again, messily and passionately without clothes on their way. John’s skin was hot and beginning to get damp, and Paul ran his hand over the guitarist’s back. John was looming over him, nothing more than _everything_ in Paul’s world at the moment, and Paul needed him _now_.

“Okay,” he pushed John a bit away, “take me. Now. _Right now._ ”

John laughed and sat on his knees, his hands resting on his thighs. Paul stared at the man’s dick and felt like sobbing.

“I never thought _I_ could make you this horny jus’ by singing,” John grinned and Paul glared at him before pushing himself up, only to turn over and flop down on his stomach.

“Get _on_ with it,” he more or less ordered and heard John let out a small moan.

“You _know_ what this sight does to me.”

“Then _show_ what it does,” Paul answered in a rather frustrated tone, shuddering.

John’s hands grabbed his arse rather unceremoniously and Paul cursed again, pushing his backside up into the air. John’s fingers where hot and slightly sweaty, and they spread his cheeks apart as the guitarist examined his hole.

Paul’s breathing was quickening fast in anticipation and he twisted his upper body, tried to look back. He didn’t manage before John was tracing his rim with a quickly lubed finger, making Paul jerk and cry out faintly.

John, the bastard, started humming while he pushed the finger slowly in, the vaseline making it slick enough to not feel like anything. Paul pushed his head against the bed, his breathing accelerating as he waited-

”Work it on out...” John sang just as he brushed past Paul’s prostate and the bassist cried out, his hips jumping and stomach tying up into impossible knots.

“You know you look so _good,_ ” John was almost laughing now and pushed a second finger in. Paul fisted his hands against the bed, bit his lip to stop an agonised moan as John touched again his prostate lightly, preparing him for what was to come. He tried to move his arse in response to John’s hand movements, but the position made it a bit difficult and he ended up shaking his head from side to side, his spine starting to shudder from the very bottom of it.

“C’mon,” he gasped, “ _c’mon,_ baby-”

“See,” John snickered, adding a third finger, “you even remember the correct words.”

“ _John-_ ”

John’s fingers pulled out and he slowly circled Paul’s entrance in a way that made Paul’s toes tingle and the pleasure in his stomach moved lower, becoming stronger and more _there._ Alright. Paul sure as fuck was going to enjoy the _hell_ out of this.

His lover’s hands now pulled him from his hips and he got the cue. Keeping his upper body against the bed he moved, his arse sticking up in the air on the same level that he _knew_ John’s currently (hopefully) very erect member would be. He was almost shivering with want, his own dick hanging between his legs like a brick.

John placed one of his hands on the side of Paul’s left cheek, and Paul tensed in slight anticipation. His eyes fluttered closed and he let out a deep breath, both mentally bracing himself and physically relaxing for the invasion that was to come.

The head of John’s erection slid in and Paul inhaled, his hands jerking against the bed. John’s breath was cut short and Paul felt the man shudder. He knew exactly what the other was feeling, and as such did not try to hurry the man up. For now.

He sighed and relaxed, and as a result John slid in slightly more. Paul could feel sweat breaking the skin of his forehead and back, and John’s right hand, his fingers still slick from the vaseline, came to grip his side, pressing him down.

“John,” Paul started, his voice muffled by the bed, desperate and hoarse. John grunted, pulled out and then slowly pushed himself back in.

Paul let his coherent words go as John started to build up a rhythm that seemed to tear its way through Paul’s stomach right up into his chest, making him choke and sob. Fire spread over his abdomen as John started hitting his spot, and at every hit Paul’s vocals grew louder. The sounds John was making resembled a bit more of desperate groans instead of singing, but the voice was the same.

He could just imagine what kind of music it would be if they were recorded now. If John would sing _now,_ and Paul could get it on a record, he would never wish for anything else in life.

“Sh _hhit_ , Paul,” John breathed and started picking up the pace, his dick hitting Paul in the exact right angle, making Paul writhe and grab the bed cover forcefully, his cheek rubbing against the bed with every thrust.

“C’mon love, c’mon, _twist_ -” John was moaning, trying to sing a few words from the song, but he ended up panting, small noises escaping through his nose as his hips moved faster and faster. His sweaty fingers clutched at Paul's sides tighter, and Paul was utterly lost in the feeling, letting out helpless sounds through his nose at every thrust. He clutched at the bed with two hands, the sound of John’s balls slapping against his arse rhythmically the only thing in his world, his whole body moving with John's thrusts.

“ _Paul_ -“ John gasped, and fucked deep into him, and Paul could feel his stomach muscles tightening in anticipation, his mind having left his body. There was only the feeling of John pushing inside him, and pulling out, only John’s voice moaning in his ears, and Paul’s eyes started falling shut when he could no longer keep them open, the pleasure overwhelming.  
John leaned closer, and Paul could feel his warmth radiating into Paul, and he needed- needed only _those few words-“_

“Let me- know that you’re _mine_.”

Paul tensed and yelled, and shook, and John’s hands came down to hold his wrists against the bed as his voice rose in a pure, wild sound, and Paul joined him, spasming, and feeling John jerk against him repeatedly, and they were in perfect harmony.

A few more thrusts, and John pulled himself out slowly, panting, Paul shuddering at the feeling as John’s spunk ran down his leg..

They had even managed to nail down the _screams_ in the song.

John collapsed on the bed next to him, out of breath, looking at Paul with blurred eyes. Paul wasn’t sure if he could move yet, since it felt like his brain had blown up.

They stared at each other, and then John started quietly laughing.

“All this- because of one _song_ -“

Paul blinked and pushed himself up on one elbow, feeling himself still shake slightly. He grinned and winked before groaning, feeling his backside.

“At least you remembered the words,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. John looked at him fondly and reached out, pulling him closer.

“You should listen to the radio more,” he murmured into Paul’s ear, and Paul laughed, vowing to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> ....cheers. gonna get back to my BB fic now
> 
> find me from my [tumblr](www.chut-je-dors.tumblr.com) too!


End file.
